3: Alley-oop

Toki once asked me to imagine how a basketball feels when it is dunked. It is rather stupid to imagine how a ball feels, I had said. I conveniently forgot about her request in the split second that followed because Iverson made an assist and my mind had married the TV.

But now, when I really try thinking about it, I realize that it should hurt. You see, you get passed, and then before you know anything you are slammed into a hoop. Sometimes you get slapped from one hand to the other before you get to the metal. You struggle through the net. You hit the floor so bloody hard because the idiot who put you through the basket didn't bother to consider letting you off with a lay-up. To make matters worse, the person who put you through all that is actually happy that he did it.

Pain. Disappointment. Everything a basketball should know.

x

Practice today is at the Tokyo University of Science because the Minato Sports Complex, where practice is usually held, is under renovation for a month. Apparently they need to fix the floor. I'm not complaining, TUS has a great gym that was completed this spring.

"Heads up!" my teammate Morigawa heaves the ball to me. I leap, catch, stretch, dunk.

"Show off," he chortles, not unkindly.

Morigawa is a year older and he is studying in Waseda University. We're both in the under-20 national team. We get along – he's professional, having played in the national team for a few years thanks to the elevator system in Waseda. We're not exactly rivals because I'm not nearly as good as he is, but close. He acknowledges the fact that I am a player too even though he's got more experience and for that, I respect him. We're both early.

"So, what's this I hear? Yane says you're taking a break for one whole off-season," he cocks an eyebrow at me, scooping the ball at it reached the peak of its bounce. "You know, Rukawa, it's dangerous. Your sponsor might even stop backing you up."

I shrug and secretly curse Yane-senpai for leaking that information out. "I have stuff to do."

"Right," Morigawa nods in mock seriousness, "stuff. When a guy says that, it's either about women, money or work. Apparently it's so important that you can risk committing an entire off-season of your job to it plus you aren't afraid of the funds being cut off, there leaves only one option."

He throws me the ball again, and I dunk forcefully.

x

"Oi, Kitsune!"

My stomach ties itself into a knot and I stop breathing. Sitting across the room from him for the whole of my third-year had not helped my grades at all. Across the classroom, mind.

"What are you doing here?"

My hair is wet from the shower I just took approximately three minutes ago and I am carrying a duffel bag with a giveaway bulge that a normal person understands to be a rather large, rather heavy ball. A normal person would also be good enough to guess what the color of said ball is. I am also wearing a windbreaker with the words All-Japan emblazoned on it, accompanied with the customary icon on the right breast. I am wearing my new pair of white Nikes, an Air Jordan Melo Version 5 "5.5". Lastly, I am standing three feet from the doors of the gym.

Judging from his valiantly imploring gaze, he is still unable to conclude that I am here to play basketball.

"I should be asking you that, do'ahou."

"I'm studying here," he pats his chest proudly. I mentally raise my eyebrows. This idiot could get into the Tokyo University of Science?

Damn, I should've taken my entrance exam. (Just to prove a point.)

Sakuragi Hanamichi is someone I don't hate nor adore. I don't seem to dislike him but every time he calls me names I just need to retaliate. I have no idea why. Toki says it is one of those guy friendship things, whatever that means. I just think that the word 'friendship' is somewhat overused whenever she makes that comment.

"I always believed you were stupid," grins the redhead that I desperately want to gag and bind. "But apparently since you go here…" he trails off, shrugging.

I just look at him, contemplating whether I need to reply or not.

"Anyway, what do you major in?" he prods the air pocket in front of me with his index finger.

"Basketball." Yes, I decided to answer him.

"There's a basketball degree here?" his eyes are really huge now.

Surprise, surprise. He is still a world-class dunce.

"Do'ahou. I'm playing basketball full-time." I don't waste any sarcasm on him because I know he probably wouldn't get it. Normally, it's more fun to torture him with straight-to-the-point answers.

"Huh?" He is evidently puzzled. I sigh and wave my hand dismissively to dispel his confusion and start making a move to leave.

"Wait, wait!" He strides over to me with that awkward gait of his. "So you aren't studying anymore? Then why are you here?"

I continue walking. He keeps striding.

"Oi, Kitsune!" he bellows. "Tell me!"

"What do you care?" I retort coolly, stopping and turning to face him. He pauses and looks me in the eye.

I brace myself. Cue punch.

Unexpectedly, he laughs. "Nyahahaha! You're still the same. Same old Foxyface."

But he's changed, I can see that. I relax my shoulders ever so unnoticeably and scrutinize him with the slightest lowering of my eyelids.

The way he walks, the way he talks, the expressions that his face can offer – they're still the same, but not quite the same. They're not exactly totally different – there is a shadow of the imbecilic Sakuragi I used to know – but something sure as hell has changed.

I suddenly realize that I've… missed this moron. Looking at him I am suddenly reminded of Mitsui-senpai and Miyagi-senpai – at the same time, nonetheless. The three of them always struck me as a group of screws that were, of course, loose. But on the court it was a different story.

Before I have time to think about the other members during my time in Shohoku, Sakuragi holds up his palms skyward.

"You're acting speech-impaired, as usual. I have to go pick Haruko up, bye."

He turns to go and I am suddenly compelled by the urge to tell him why I am at his university, to ask him where the other guys are right now, to know what his major is, to know if he is still playing basketball.

But he's already disappeared into the swarm of people in the open-air cafeteria. It seems that people always walk away from me before I tell them I don't want them to.

I feel like I've been dunked.